Inertia
by former-burning-example
Summary: AU. Two-shot. Sunday best and broken glass. prev. titled "-" Complete.
1. Chapter 1

_They call holidays an option for a reason._  
 _I heard you're coming back to life just for the fourth_  
 _I've been catching all your ghosts for every season_  
 _I pray to god you won't come back here anymore_

 **Where Have You Been? - Manchester Orchestra**

.

* * *

She's driving too fast.

It's late, she's injured, and you're sick to your stomach. It's all your fault. _Paris_. You'd visited your mother in Paris and returned with gifts. You didn't mean for any of this to happen. But it has.

She has a deep gash in her forehead, but she won't let you get close enough to make sure. She's too strong for her own good. Too strong to let you in. Blood leaks down her profile, dripping onto the collar of the shirt you bought her for her birthday last month. The one that twists you up inside and absconds with your words, leaving you with only: ' _Uhm, you look...'_ Amazing.

"Let me see, Jane."

She shakes her head, but stops short, grimacing at the sudden movement. One hand maintains her white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel while the other swipes across her forehead. She drops a little resistance on the gas pedal, and you're flying. Pale yellow and red lights slice through the inky black darkness as you speed along far above the limit. She doesn't give a damn, but you're trying your best not to hyperventilate.

"I'm fine."

That low voice you love so much- like tree trunks groaning in a storm- is gone. Barely there. A whisper. The fullness in her voice held captive by those who will never listen. Her voice now clings to the ceiling in her parents' home, high above their reach, but trapped all the same.

"Where are we going?"

"Away." Pained. She is hurt.

You feel your stomach churn because this isn't the first time.

The first time, she'd crawled in through your window, shaken but still whole. Her father lost his job. She sat on the edge of your bed, tying and untying the fringed ends of your blanket until you drew her into your arms and promised everything would be okay.

And the second time, her mother asked Frank one too many questions about his job search. Jane drove her mother to the hospital, certain her arm was broken. It was a clean break. She called you late that night from her bedroom on the verge of tears she'd never shed.

The third time, she found you in the library, absorbed in a memorandum from an investigation held in 1968 regarding the arsenic levels in Boston groundwater. Her family had fragmented at the hand of Frank Rizzoli and his new blond. And while the tests in 1968 came back negative, you'd found a whole new source of poison. You'd wrapped your arms around her and held on despite her protests. She'd never admit she's in pain.

You're sure there were times she didn't even try to find you. Times when she'd thought she was strong enough to handle it all on her own. And now you're in her old, rusted-out pickup truck, wondering why on earth you didn't protect her. Why on earth you'd given her father the ammunition to finally break her. Literally.

"Jane..."

" _Don't_."

The blond lost interest in her father. It's a story older than anyone wants to admit, but everyone knows the outcome. It only ends in sputtering engines, head injuries, and hurt.

He _came back._

Her father. He came back while you were all laughing over dinner and enjoying the presents you'd brought back from your trip. You thought it was a nice gesture to bring them each something. You'd spent at least an hour or two perusing stores for each gift, only settling when you believed you'd captured at least a small part of their essence in an object. Some at the expense of your mother's vast resources.

The only way to go for Frankie and Tommy was food. Those boys could eat like nothing you've ever seen. You'd filled their baskets with candies and truffles, and anything else you could find that didn't look too intimidating. For Angela, your mother helped you select a necklace setting fit with her children's birthstones and a novelty snow globe depicting Eiffel Tower in winter. You didn't even get to Jane's present when dinner was so abruptly interrupted.

...

 _"Frank? What are you doing here?" Angela's voice is strong, despite her shaking hands._

 _"I'm back."_

 _"Back? You think you can just come back?"_

 _Jane's hand finds yours under the table, and across from you, Tommy and Frankie sink in their seats. You glance at Jane, but she's not cowering. Defiant flames flick in her eyes as her eyes lock on her father. You realize then that this is her life. All she knows is this high-tension dinner with insults and accusations filling every space._

 _"You need to leave, Frank." Angela is unwavering._

 _"Can't we talk?" For a split second, you see Angela lower her guard, and that's all Frank needs. "Just let me explain."_

 _"Fine."_

 _Frank looks hesitant, and you realize he's looking right at you. You wonder if there's a way you can disappear completely._

 _"I wanna talk to my family."_

 _"We're all right here."_

 _Jane's squeezes your hand, and out of habit, you lean into her, thinking you can keep her grounded. She tenses beneath you but makes no move to extract herself._

 _"Maura, could we have a minute?" he asks you, and you start to nod, but Jane's eyes burn into yours. Fierce._

 _"Stay," she says, almost begging in only a way you can tell. You know her better than anyone else in the room._

 _Angela circles the table and puts a hand on your shoulder, her good hand. She's still reluctant to do anything with the arm broken and long healed. "Do you know why we still have this house, Frank?"_

 _"Uh... no."_

 _"Of course, you don't. Why would you care? You left us all here so you could go off with that..." she loses her words. You cover her hand with your own, and the smile she gives you lets you know you're home. "Do you know what it's like to have no options? To have no money? I was working three jobs and it still wasn't enough. Janie picked up a couple shifts at Mario's, and even the boys did work for the neighbors whenever they could, but it still wasn't enough. We were going to lose this place."_

 _"I'm so-"_

 _"I'm not finished," she snaps. "You've interrupted me every day for twenty years, and now it's my turn to speak." She is angry. She is livid. "And then one day, this girl right here," she pats your shoulder, "hears about our struggle, and what does she do? She gets her father to loan us the money you took, the money we needed so that we could get back on our feet. And now she's brought us all gifts from Paris. She's eighteen years old, Frank, and look what she's done for us!"_

 _He looks baffled, mouth gaping and closing like a fish out of water._

 _"So whatever you want to say to us, you can say it front of her too because Maura is a part of this family."_

 _"I just want my family back."_

 _Angela shakes her head, already exhausted by his presence. "How about we start with dinner, okay?"_

 _You don't agree with this. His rage overtook him once, and Angela ended up in the hospital. Who's to say that won't happen again? Your thoughts must be apparent because Jane squeezes your hand again and nods like she understands what's raging inside of you. But you keep quiet because you're still not sure of your place in their world._

 _..._

Jane blinks her eyes rapidly to keep them open. She's been driving for hours, and you have no idea where you are, but you're not going to risk angering her. Five minutes ago, you tried to touch her, and she flinched away just like you knew she would. But it was the tear that leaked from the corner of her eye that made you freeze. She's hurt. She's hurt, and it's all your fault. You love her, and that's all your fault.

It's hot in the cab of the truck, but you fear opening a window will somehow fracture her even more. So you sit there in the heat, willing her to _slow_ down.

...

 _Dinner is terrible._

 _The second Frank takes his old seat at the empty head of the table, he asks Frankie how football is going._

 _"I made the team," the boy says, spearing a layer of lasagna with his fork._

 _"Quarterback?"_

 _"Yeah."_

 _"My boy! Freshman year, starting quarterback!"_

 _Jane's hand covers your knee under the table, and she shakes her head, knowing what's coming. You know it too. You wish you weren't here. No, you wish_ he _wasn't here._

 _"I'm not a starter."_

 _"What?" Frank's eyebrows raise in surprise, then crease together._

 _"I'm... third string."_

 _"You're_ what? _" Frank slams his fist on the table. "Third string? You might as well not even play. Fucking third string, Frankie?" But then his face changes into something you're not sure you understand, "You were never that aggressive anyway."_

 _Frankie sinks further in his chair, "I guess not."_

 _He turns to Tommy, "What about you, kid? Any sports?"_

 _Tommy shakes his head. He's on his middle school's baseball team, but he wouldn't dare go down that road with his father. Instead: "I got a B- on my spelling test."_

 _Frank lets out a laugh, "A B-? Oh, look out! What do ya gotta spell anyway? House? Fence? C'mon, boy!"_

 _You're personally offended by this. For the past three months, you've been tutoring Tommy and trying to help him excel with his dyslexia. He was on top of the world when he showed you that B-, and you were amazed at his quick progress._

 _"Pop, c'mon, really? Just leave him alone," Jane tries, but to no avail._

 _"Lighten up, Janie. I'm just messin' around."_

 _You wrap a hand around her arm and give her the best reassuring squeeze you can manage, but it's hollow, and she feels it too. You can see it in her eyes. She doesn't want to sit through any more of this._

 _You look to Angela, but she's doing her best focusing on the food in front of her, one hand clasped around the necklace you'd bought her. She's spent. Tired of Frank, yet she'd invited him to have dinner. You will never understand people, but you know this is wrong. This isn't how it's supposed to be._

 _..._

"Jane, please. Stop."

"Maur," she grunts but leaves it at that. She uses your name like a warning.

"Let me help you."

She wipes at the tears escaping her eyes, looking angry for ever having shed them. She is strong. So strong, it makes her weak. She's been strong for her mother and brothers for months, working and working, and taking so much more than a few shifts' weight on her shoulders. She feels guilty for the money your father gave her mother. Maybe even ashamed that it came to that. She has been so strong for everyone, and now there's barely anything left.

You love her.

"I love you, Jane."

A sound slips from the back of her throat, something primal and wounded. She nods, keeping her eyes on the road. "I love you, too."

...

 _Frank helps her mother with the dishes, and somewhere in the commotion of everyone bolting from the awkwardness of the dinner table, her hand finds yours, and she pulls you outside. You settle beside her on the porch swing, fingers entwined, heart beating faster than it should._

 _"I'm sorry," she says, using her feet to set the swing in motion._

 _You blink, stunned. "For what?"_

 _"For my pop."_

 _"Oh, Jane. No, it's not your fault."_

 _"I know that. I just wish... I don't even know what I wish."_

 _"It's okay." You run your hand up her arm furthest from you and follow the curve of her shoulder up her neck, finally resting on her cheek. Gently, you bring her to look at you. The pain in those brown eyes is enough to pierce your ribs and puncture your heart with something small and concentrated like a bicycle spoke. That way your death is slow and gradual._

 _You pull her to you and kiss her cheeks, the tip of her nose, her eyelids. Just everything you can touch, avoiding her lips. "I love you so much."_

 _She wraps an arm around your shoulders like she's afraid you might just walk away. You would never. To leave her would require a miracle of science. A magnificent machine that could remove the parts of her from every nerve ending she's ignited, every part of you her lips have claimed, every fiber of your being._

 _There is not a machine that astoundingly complex_ ‒ _that criminal_ ‒ _in existence._

 _"You can go if you want. I'll tell them you were tired."_

 _"I'll never leave you," you say as firmly as you can manage, and for once, it doesn't fall through. Her eyes light up, a smile pulling at that beautiful mouth of hers. If that look had a name it would most definitely be:_ I love you.

 _She leans in, slow and careful- always so careful not to hurt you- and presses her lips to yours. Before her, you were okay. Things were simple. Life was easy. You could float through it all with the choice of using your brain or your money. And then you met her, and everything grounded itself._

 _She is real. She is everything._

 _You are so lost in her, nothing could bring you back. She's warm and safe, and she loves you. There is nothing else you need._

 _It's the sound of glass breaking that pulls her from you._

 _..._

This is too fast.

Jane is in no condition to be driving at all, let alone like this. Crazy dangerous. Lightning fast. You're sure you're going to die.

"Jane, come back to me. Please, I'm here."

"Maur," it comes out in a sob. She is stronger than anyone you have ever known, and now you're seeing her fall. You will catch her. She believes crying makes her weak, but she's wrong. You've never seen someone carry everything the way she does.

"Jane, please slow down."

"I can't... I-I gotta get away."

Your heart aches and you don't know how that's physically possible, but it hurts. Not like a cut or a scrape, but like a burn. Like a fire has taken hold inside of your heart and she's the extinguisher. But she's falling and falling. And you're just coughing up smoke.

...

 _"What the hell is this?" Frank's voice booms. The light from inside silhouettes him, but you know. You just know he'll destroy her._

 _You expect her to jump to her feet ready to defend herself, but then you scold yourself for even thinking that. She loves you, and she's not going to leave you like that. Instead, she glares back at him._

 _"You're... You... No! NO! Not my daughter! I raised you better than this!"_

 _"Frank, let them be!" Angela tries from behind him._

 _He spins around, furious, "You knew?"_

 _"Of course, I know! She's my daughter."_

 _"She's_ our _daughter, and I will_ not _have..._ that _in my house!"_

 _You flinch at his tone. His finality. He cannot take her from you. No matter what he tries, you will always find each other._

 _"Well, then it's a good thing this isn't your house anymore," Angela seethes. "You have no right."_

 _She gets to her feet, and by the look in her eyes you know she wants you to stay where you are. You shrink into yourself as she crosses the porch with the determination you know so well._

 _"Stop it, Pop."_

 _"Jane, you can't... I_ forbid _you to see her."_

 _"No, I love her." Plain and simple._

 _The way his eyes flash at 'love' makes the hair on the back of your neck stand. You're going to be sick. You know it._

 _"Love? You don't even know what love is! And that?" he points at you as if you're an object. "That's not love. That's sin."_

 _"What do you know about love?" she counters, her voice stronger than you've ever heard it. "You left us all, and_ she _saved us! Without her... nothing would be okay. Everything would be fucked all because you left your_ wife _and family for another woman. That's_ your _sin. My sin? No, you don't get to call her that."_

 _Frank pales and for a moment, you think she's won. You think he'll leave. For a moment..._

 _The shove comes out of nowhere. She is strong, but the way she topples the ground makes her seem so fragile. Her forehead catches on the edge of the railing, and she tries to catch herself before her skull meets the concrete, but she's just a second too late. The sound that escapes your lips is something to foreign to your ears. You want to help, but you'll make it worse. You know it. Tears sting your eyes, and you let them fall._

 _He kneels beside her, "Oh god. Janie, I'm so sorry! I don't know wh_ ‒ _"_

 _She looks up at him, eyes enough to silence an entire room, but they're focused solely on him. Her voice is a murmur, but her words still bite. "Get. The. Fuck. Away."_

 _Sensing he's not getting anywhere with Jane, he turns to you._

 _"YOU! You did this to her! You made her like this!" You will yourself not to cower in front of him, even though on the inside, you've already collapsed._

 _He comes at you, hands outstretched and you close your eyes, waiting for impact. But it never comes. You hear sneakers slapping concrete, and your heart picks up._

 _"Don't you touch her!"_

 _When you open your eyes, he's on the ground right in front of you, and she's standing above him, breathing hard, blood trickling from her brow. She reaches out to you with one hand, still keeping an eye on her father. You stand on shaky legs and hurry to her side._

 _"Janie," her mother starts, "I_ ‒ _"_

 _"No," her voice quiet, "you let him come back. You_ knew _he would find out."_

 _"No! I didn't! Jane, please!"_

 _But it's too late for apologies. Jane's leading you away, and you know you're not coming back._

 _..._

"He was going to hurt you," she chokes out, rounding a bend at break-neck speed. The world is a blur, but in here, everything is so painfully clear.

"But he didn't."

"If he even tou-touched you, I would have killed him."

"I know," you say, wiping your cheeks.

She grimaces again, fighting the pain in her head. "It's not fair. He doesn't get to just come back like that!"

"I know, I know," you soothe. She needs to pull over and let you help her. "Please slow down."

You know she won't, but you had to try. It's hopeless. She'll drive and drive until the truck's empty. She's hurt. And this time, it was too much for her.

"You don't always have to fight it. Let me help you. Let me l-"

Bright light fills the cab, and you know it's over.

Gravity becomes suddenly relevant as metal crushes and caves, and glass shoots in at you. You're rolling. You feel her reaching for you, but she's not strong enough. You lurch at the mercy of inertia. Blood. Your head smashes into the dashboard.

There is nothing.

...

 _Fireworks boom and crackle in the sky above you- red, white, and blue. Each new one illuminates the smoke of the last. Kids run by you with sparklers and glow sticks, and the air smells like hamburgers and summer._

 _You're alone. You weren't supposed to be, but your parents decided to attend a party instead of watching the fireworks with you. So here you are, in your white dress and American flag-themed flip-flops in awe of the pyrotechnics._

 _"Want one?" a voice asks from beside you. You rip your eyes from the sky and try to figure out what they'd asked you._

 _"What?"_

 _A little boy offers you a sparkler of your own, "Want one?"_

 _You happily accept it, and he scurries off, leaving you with an unlit firework. You're a bit puzzled as to how you're supposed to enjoy it like this, so you just hold it and look back up to the sky exploding above you._

 _Heat sizzles by your hand, and you look down, gasping as someone holds their sparkler to yours. You turn and freeze, captivated at once by the shy girl that looks back at you. Her dark hair is the wildest thing you've ever seen in your life, but you think it suits her lanky frame. Dressed in torn jeans and a cheesy American flag t-shirt, she's beautiful._

 _She chuckles and picks up the sparkler fizzling on the ground. You've dropped it. She hands it to you, fingers lingering on yours for just a moment before her hand returns to her side._

 _"Happy Fourth."_

 _You can only nod._

 _"I'm Jane."_

 _You scour your mind for your name, and when it comes out, it makes your cheeks flush, "Um... I'm... Maura."_

 _"So, uh. Where's your family?"_

 _A shrug is the most neutral gesture you can manage, and you hate it because you weren't raised that way. "They're busy."_

 _"Oh, my Pop's busy too," she looks over her shoulder at what could only be her family- her mother and two younger boys. Happy. Wonderful. Whole. "but you can hang out with us if you want."_

 _"I'd like that."_

 _..._

 _..._

 _..._


	2. Chapter 2

_"No peeking."_

 _But you can't help yourself. You've never had a surprise before. You spread your fingers just enough to peer through the gap. Before you can see anything cover-your-eyes worthy, you feel Jane's hands press over yours, sealing your view._

 _"I said no peeking, Maur. C'mon, it's a surprise." She tries to keep her voice serious, but you can hear the laughter riding out on her words._

 _"Okay, okay. I won't look." But inside, you're on fire. What could it be? Is it a…? You have no frame of reference. She is showing you a world you never knew you needed._

 _She takes her hands off yours, and you wait until you're sure she's not looking before you try to peek again. But she anticipated that already. The second you move your fingers, your eyes meet hers. She sighs, but you can see the smile threatening to overtake her serious facade._

 _"You're not a very good listener."_

 _"Sorry." You're excited. You feel her hands move to your hips, and she's the only thing keeping you from jumping up and down in anticipation. She watches you as you drop your hands from your eyes, surprise forgotten. Instead, it's her hands. Strong hands never anything but gentle with you._

 _"You're not sorry." Teasing. She likes that– jokes and sarcasm. You like it too, but not right now. Right now the only thing you've got on your mind is how much you want to close the silly distance between you, grab a fistful of her t-shirt, and kiss her until she forgets every joke she knows._

 _It's difficult to concentrate on anything but her. You've known her a month, and already, you cannot imagine a life without that smile._

 _"Please?"_

 _You cannot say no to those eyes._

 _You bring your hands up again, holding her eyes for just a moment more before blocking out the hazy August colors. She doesn't move– probably still suspicious of your peeking tendencies._

 _"I won't look. I promise."_

 _"I know." She rests her forehead against the backs of your fingers and pulls you flush against her. If you believed in past lives, you would tell her that long ago you must have done something extraordinary to deserve her in this life._

 _You're in love with the way she leans in and brushes her lips against yours in a ghost of a kiss before settling at the corner of your mouth with her own._

 _"Happy birthday," she murmurs, and you're breathless._

 _And all at once, she's away from you. Despite the thick August heat, you feel cold where she once was._

 _"Jane?"_

 _"Open your eyes."_

...

"Open your eyes! Please, Maur! No, no, please, wake up!"

She sounds far away, and you want to call for her. To tell her to come find you, but your mouth doesn't work. You try to reach out, but your body feels heavy and tired.

"Wake up, please, Maur... Please."

You try again, but you can't move. You're so tired. Why won't she let you sleep?

"Maur, please! Please open your eyes."

Anything for her. Anything. It should be simple. Just open your eyes, but you can't. If your body feels heavy, then your eyelids weigh a ton. You cannot open your eyes.

"Maur." Clear. Frantic. She could be right next to you, but there's no way to know. Why can't you move?

"Don't leave me. I don't wanna be alone... Don't go."

...

 _"Don't go," she says, reaching up to you._

 _"I'm not going anywhere." And you're not. There's not a force of earth that could get you out of this bed. Not on earth. Not in existence._

 _"What are you doing then?"_

 _You pull the sheet up to your chest and look over your shoulder at her, "Looking at you."_

 _"Why?" Blood blooms in her cheeks, and she squirms a little under your gaze. All of the sudden she's nervous. Funny. She wasn't five minutes ago when she was on top of you._

 _Now you're the one flushing._

 _"Because you're beautiful." You didn't think it was possible to love her more than you did when you woke up this morning, but here you are. She's looking at you all wild hair and shy smiles. Yes, you believe it's certainly possible that she has a two-handed hold on your heart._

 _"Maur." As she speaks, you realize just how much of her you still haven't felt beneath your lips. Earlier, it was all about getting nearer– as close as two bodies could possibly be. Not for one moment did you stop to pay homage to the curve of her left shoulder or the space between her eyes._

 _You wonder for a moment if you rushed through it too quickly to fully appreciate her, but you stop yourself before you ruin your mood. There will be more chances, more opportunities for you to memorize every part of her. You didn't rush anything._

 _"Yes?"_

 _"Can you come back here?" She's shown you everything in a matter of months comprised of days spent laughing and_ living _. There's no way to properly repay her for what she's done. But you can try._

 _You abandon the sheet and settle back into her, sighing as she resumes tracing lazy patterns across our shoulder blades and down your spine._

 _"Don't go." Soft, pleading words._

 _You love her. You love her. You love her._

 _"Don't go," she repeats, quiet and vulnerable. Your heart swells in your chest. This girl... You didn't know it, but you've been waiting your whole life for this girl, and now that you've got her, you're never letting go._

 _"No." You turn and press your lips to her collarbone, yet another place you missed in your frenzied attempt to get as close to her as possible. You'll make up for it all. "Never."_

 _"I... I love you."_

...

"I love you, Maur. I love you so much. You're going to be okay. You're... You're going to be okay." Faintly again. You barely hear her.

But you feel it now.

There's something wrong. You're freezing.

"Maura, I'm sorry. It's all my fault." She's crying. You can hardly make out her words. "Please... Maur, please...don't..."

You lose her.

…

...

...

Your throat hurts.

You don't know why that's your first thought, but it is. You cough quietly, but it doesn't help. When's the last time you had a drink of water? You try to sit up, but the second you do, you realize what a mistake you've made.

The dull pain in your head makes itself more than known when it flares hot and angry, scolding and scalding. Like you should have known better than to move. Machines spring to live all around you, beeping and chiming like you've derailed all their tasks. You would apologize if there wasn't a fire poker shoved between your eyes.

Hands ease you gently back down, pushing through your flailing attempts.

"Maura, sweetie. Maura, calm down. You're in the hospital. You're safe." You don't recognize the voice above you, and your eyes won't open for you. "I know you're scared, baby. It's okay. It's okay. You have to stop fighting. You're going to hurt yourself."

Hospital? You don't understand. Where is Jane?

"Jane," you try, but nothing comes out.

"What, baby?"

"Jane." A little stronger, but your consonants trip over each other. She couldn't possibly understand what you're saying. Your throat is killing you. You reach for your mouth, but you feel the nurse's hands close around yours.

"No, sweetie. You've got a breathing tube. Don't pull on it. Just relax, okay?"

Relax?

"Can you open your eyes for me?"

You try, but your eyes feel glued shut. Carefully, you bring your hands to your eyes and try to open them yourself.

The first time you open your eyes, he world is a line divided by dark blond eyelashes. It takes you several seconds to get your eyelids to obey, but once they do, you blink several times taking in your room. Everything has a blue tint to it, like you fell asleep staring at the sky while the sun warmed your eyelids.

Gradually, everything returns to its normal coloration, and you look up at the nurse. She has kind eyes and a curly ponytail. She smiles at you and holds her hand out for you to take. You hesitate. She's a stranger that's smiling like she's known you forever. You look away from her, instead focusing on the patient whiteboard mounted on the wall by the door. The pressure in your head increases as you try to read your information, so you settle on the little pictures of cartoon faces in various states of pain.

"It's okay. My name is Gloria."

You take her hand.

"You've been asleep for a while, sweetie."

You don't care how long you've been asleep or why. None of that matters right now. You're scared.

"Jane," you repeat, your voice a coarse whisper.

"What is it?"

You want to cry. Jane. Jane. _Jane Rizzoli_. Is that so hard to hear? You know the nurse is just trying to help, but you don't want her. You want Jane.

"No, don't cry, baby. It's okay." She wipes your cheeks with a kneenex like you're a child.

"Jane." Her name comes out cracked and ugly.

"Oh, Jane?"

She knows Jane? You nod your head, whimpering a little with the motion.

"Lie back, sweetie. You shouldn't be up like this for so long. Gosh, I... I can't believe this."

Your eyes widen in fear.

"You're... you're awake!"

Why is that such a big surprise? Where's Jane?

"Jane," you croak, but she just nods like she's recollecting in her own mind. You're getting frustrated with her, and it's making everything hurt. It suddenly occurs to you that you haven't tried to move your feet.

"You had a lot of time to heal. Most of your broken bones have healed nicely. You were pretty banged up, kid. Do you remember anything?"

Do you? You think back to the last memory you have, but it's all fuzzy. You remember Paris with your mother, and an Eiffel Tower snow globe. You remember the anger in Jane's father's eyes and...

"Don't hurt yourself. You don't have to remember right now. It's okay. I'll be right back. I've got to get the doctor." And with that, she's gone.

...

The second time you open your eyes is after they have removed your breathing tube, a man _–_ your doctor _–_ kneels beside your bed and checks your pupils with a pen light. He checks other things too _–_ your heart, your lungs, your throat _–_ but none make your skin crawl like the light in your eyes.

You never realized how hard the world just _is_. Looking at things. Listening to words. It's very difficult.

Several times, you try to ask the doctor about Jane. But your words won't come out. By the way he talks to Gloria in the hall, you can tell they never thought you'd wake up. Or maybe they're just surprised you're so responsive.

Maybe you're just paranoid.

Gloria comes back in with a cool washcloth that does wonders to soothe the wildfire inside your head.

"Jane." You lock eyes with her, hoping she won't get distracted.

"What about Jane, sweetie?"

"Where is she!" You didn't mean to yell, but all it does is make matters worse. Your throat burns, and your head starts to pound all over again. You feel fuzzy and tired. You want Jane right now. Right _now._

"I called her, but it's two in the morning, sweetie. I left a message, and we'll try again in the morning, okay?"

It's not okay! You don't want to be here. Not alone. Not without her. You press the heels of your hands over your eyes. What happened?

"I know you're confused. Tomorrow the doctor with explain everything, but right now, I know it sounds weird, but you should rest."

"N-no."

"Shh, it's okay. We'll try again in the mor _–_ "

You hear the familiar sound of sneakers slapping the ground in fast progression. Is it? Could it be? The sound flies past your door, and your heart sinks. But then it stops altogether.

"Hey! You can't be in here!" a nurse shouts in the hall.

Sneakers squeak back in your direction, and you can vaguely make out fingers gripping the door jamb.

"Miss, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

You see her. She flings herself through the doorway, gathering her balance against the door. She pushes her hair out of her face and carefully looks over at you as if she's afraid it's a joke.

"Miss, you can't be here."

She ignores the other nurse and stumbles over to your bed. Gloria stands and offers her chair, but Jane goes straight to your bed. You see now her cheeks are wet with tears, and her eyes are red. She's a wreck, but you can't imagine you look much better.

"Miss?"

Gloria takes that as her cue to disengage the nurse. And silence befalls you. Jane reaches a shaky hand out, hesitating for a brief moment before touching your face. Your headache recedes, or maybe you've just forgotten all about it.

"I-I-I wasn't here when you woke up." She brings her other hand up and rests it on your shoulder. "I promised, and I wasn't h-here."

"It's okay." You're not sure if she can understand you.

"Were you scared?"

You cannot lie, and even though you know it will hurt her, you nod.

She sucks in a breath, "I'm sorry. I c-couldn't find my phone, and... and it stopped ringing." She fishes her phone out of her sweatshirt pocket and holds it out like proof. "I didn't even listen to the message. I just s-saw it was from the h-hospital, and I had to get here. I thought... I-I thought..."

She trails off but you know what she was thinking. _I thought you were dead._

She swallows and nods, "Yeah." She gives your shoulder a slight squeeze, and you flinch. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to _–_ "

"Okay," you manage, even though every single word is like swallowing decomposed gravel. Even the effort makes your eyes droop. You don't want to sleep. You want to stay with Jane. What if you open your eyes again, and she's not there?

She reads your mind.

"Sleep, Maur. I'll be right here, I promise."

...

The third time you open your eyes, Jane is asleep in the chair next to your bed. She's resting her head on her forearms, her hair a wild mess spilling onto your blankets. You try to sit up a little, but you can't, and your attempt jostles the bed.

"Maur?" Jane says, waking with a start, eyes worried.

"I'm okay."

You feel better. Nowhere near good, but having Jane around makes the horror of it all. Now you're confused.

"How... How long?"

She swipes the back of her hand across her eyes, "Almost five weeks."

Five? You were anticipating something like horrifically longer, but five weeks is still a long time to be detached. You try to move your feet, surprised when they obey. Maybe you are not broken. Though, they still ache like nothing you've ever felt in your life. You've never broken a bone before or really ever spent much time in the hospital. If something was terribly wrong, Jane would tell you. She would have _already_ told you. She wouldn't lie.

"And when you get out, Ma and I are gonna take care of you. She's on her way right now. You should'da heard her on the phone... She missed you so much... I missed you, too."

"You waited...?"

She nods, "At first, I never left. I never left your side for more than five minutes. Ma stayed a lot too. But then I had to work." She drops her gaze, almost ashamed, "I was here last night. I left at nine... and you... you woke up."

"What... happened?"

She pales, "I... I got us in an accident. Do you remember?"

"No."

"I got a bump on the head and a sprained wrist and you... Your… your seat belt broke." She buries her face in her hands, "I thought I lost you, Maur."

"You didn't."

She smiles more for your benefit than her own. You can tell she's not in the smiling mood, and you wish she wouldn't try to hard to keep herself so put-together. You wish she wouldn't try to carry everything like that. "You don't remember, but I got into that accident 'cause dinner with Pop… And I know there's no excuse for how stupid I was… but he's not coming back Maur… Ever."

You don't understand exactly, but you nod as if you do. You figure you'll remember in time.

Jane looks at you again, face crumbling, "You shouldn't be here... it should be _me_." Her eyes flash. You've never seen her like this, "It was my fault. All of it. All you ever did was love me, and I almost killed you."

"No." You start to choke. Her eyes widen and she frantically smacks at the call button, hitting it more than just a few times.

You close your eyes.

...

The fourth time you open your eyes, Angela Rizzoli is sitting in the chair beside your bed, reading a home decor magazine. She smiles at you when she realizes you're awake.

"Hi, Maura."

"Hi...?" your eyes pass her, searching the empty chairs in the room.

Angela chuckles and points her magazine at you. It's then when you feel Jane's weight on the bed beside you. She's asleep, and you try your best not to wake her.

"How're you feeling?"

You feel half-charged. Like all your body wants to do is sleep, but that's the last thing your mind wants. You mind wants to read everything the hospital has to offer, but your eyes don't agree. Your mind wants to go on a walk through the park with Jane, but your body won't move like that. You've been asleep for weeks, and you've had quite enough of it. So how do you feel? Restricted? Off?

"Trapped." You decide.

"The doctor said you'd feel a little funky at first. You've been asleep for a while. You're not used to being alert, or something."

Jane stirs beside you, disturbing herself out of sleep.

"Moning, Janie," her mother greets almost sacrastically. So that's where she gets it.

"Hey, Ma. Maur." She leans over and presses a kiss to your temple. You can't imagine what you must look like, what you must _smell_ like after five weeks of sponge baths, but if either of them notice, they don't say anything. You love them.

Everything almost feels normal.

Almost.

Five Weeks. You can fill so much into five weeks. All that time, lost. You must have missed Christmas... your first Christmas with Jane. What else did you miss? Birthdays, laughs, and happy moments?

Tears form at the corners of your eyes, and they both jump into action.

"What's wrong?" Angela reaches for your hand.

"What's wrong, Maur?"

"I... lost. Lost five weeks w-with you."

Angela's face falls, and you hate that you've done that to her. They don't need anymore sadness, and neither do you. But Jane. Jane looks strong. Jane is strong. She's brave and unfaltering, and you love her.

You love her so much, you think maybe that's what kept your brain active. Dreams of her. Memories of the way she loved. The way you know she still does. She'll always be there to save you, and you can only hope one day you'll return the favor. You look back at her, surprised at the look of determination in her eyes.

"Five weeks, huh. Well, then we're just gonna have to get them back."

"We'll help you," Angela adds.

More than anything, you love them both.

Jane kisses your cheeks and wraps an arm around you, taking care to be gentle.

"We'll get through this together."

…

…

A/N: Please excuse the medical inaccuracies. I did my best, I really did!


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